


Don't Mind the Walking

by stvrk



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Fantasy, Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, it goes about as well as expected, logan wakes up in middle earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-24 20:32:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16647293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stvrk/pseuds/stvrk
Summary: Logan’s first thought was that the portal mutant bitch had sent him to the North Pole. It was cold, something smelled faintly of cinnamon, and a group of very small people were staring at him.“Where am I?” Logan rumbled out. “Is this still D.C.?”“D.C.?” The men-children looked around at each other. “You’re about half a night’s ride from the Shire.”“What the fuck is the Shire?”





	Don't Mind the Walking

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a fanfic I saw on Fanfiction.net a long time ago about Logan stumbling into the LOTR universe. I loved the idea so I'm using the same prompt in my own story.
> 
> I can't remember the name of the original fic but if someone knows a link to it I would greatly appreciate it.
> 
> Rating is really just for language because Logan has a potty mouth.
> 
> Title is taken from the song Driver by Billy Raffoul

Logan’s first thought was that the portal mutant bitch had sent him to the North Pole. It was cold, something smelled faintly of cinnamon, and a group of very small people were staring at him.

He remembered the X-Men had been called in to a fairly routine job. A group of rebels were wreaking havoc in D.C., so they’d flown in to handle the situation. But this group had a woman who seemed to specialize in distorting the space around her. Kitty had been thrown halfway across the state when she tried charging the mutant.

The X-Men received a call on the radio after Kitty disappeared with the girl reporting her location. It’d been a relief. Logan thought the mutant had killed the girl.

Then the bitch had turned to him.

The next thing he knew he was waking up in a pile of dead leaves.

One of Santa’s helpers shuffled closer to him. Logan growled a warning and the boy(?) froze.

“Are you alright there?” He asked, remaining a few feet away from Logan. A Scottish accent coated his words.

Logan grunted. His back hurt, his face hurt, and most of all, his head was pounding like he’d run forehead first into the Juggernaut.

When he didn’t think he would vomit at the slightest movement, Logan pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Swaying, he got to his feet.

The people surrounding him were even smaller than he’d thought. From the ground, they looked like North Pole elves. From where he stood, they were more like children. For a minute he thought they might have been a bunch of kids but features on their faces marked them as more mature than he had originally assumed.  

“Where am I?” Logan rumbled out. “Is this still D.C.?”

“D.C.?” The men-children looked around at each other. “You’re about half a night’s ride from the Shire.”

“What the fuck is the Shire?” Logan’s head began throbbing again. “What state is this? Am I still in America?”

They peered up at him, confusion written all over their small features.

Suddenly, a loud whinnying erupted from the woods behind them. As if struck by lightning, the group of four froze and then scattered.

“Run!” One of them whispered loudly to him before they disappeared into the underbrush.

Logan stood dumbly, frozen in his disbelief. “Was that a fucking horse?” He asked, mostly to himself.

A tiny hand curled itself into his and yanked hard. If he were any other man, it might have even made him stumble. As it was, though, all they managed was to make their own feet skid a bit in the leaves before Logan turned to look at them.

The guy was youthful, but definitely an adult. He had round cheeks and sandy hair fell into his eyes which shone with fear.

It was his look that made Logan straighten. Wherever he was, he wasn’t out of danger yet.

He let the blonde guy tug him forward until they were racing through the trees.

With no landmarks to assist him in placing his whereabouts, Logan let his other senses take in as much information as he could gather.

He smelled only nature. It was strange, even when he had isolated himself in the deepest parts of Canada’s wilderness, the bitter taste of exhaust fumes and electricity lingered on his palate. The modern flavors were nowhere to be found here. Even the sky, as faint as it was through all the overhanging trees, was lit spectacularly by the stars shining through the branches.

Had he been sent to another country? One without the pollution he’d grown accustomed to?

A roar broke the near silence of the woods and the blonde guy next to him stumbled in fear.

Who was chasing them?

Something felt wrong in the air. Like a shadow turned to liquid form that now curled into the air around them and suffocated all the senses. As they ran, the shadow grew larger. It creeped closer and was licking at the back of Logan’s neck when another voice called out.

“Follow me!”

With the nasty sensations at his back, Logan didn’t hesitate. He gripped the blonde guy’s arm harder and tugged them in the direction of whoever had called out.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, an enormous figure burst through the trees. A horrible screeching noise filled the air, and in the chaos, Logan lost his grip on the small man.

It was a robed person on horseback. Fabric flew around it, carried by the wind and some other supernatural force. Red eyes glowed in the dark as the horse bared unnaturally sharp teeth.

Logan caught sight of two of the small people, yelling in fear and confusion.

Instinct overtook him, and his claws unsheathed themselves.

He swiped at the horsed figure and snarled when he felt only fabric rip. He lunged again but still the figure danced just far enough away for his attacks to be useless.

Logan tried a few more jabs at the cloaked rider before following the others as they found an opening.

The shadows were all around them now and Logan’s heart began to race. There was something very wrong about whatever was chasing them. It wasn’t a mutant. It didn’t even smell human. It smelled of smoke and rot and desperation above all else.

Where the fuck had that bitch sent him?

More shrieks cut through the night as at least two more riders turned into the chase.

“The river!” One of the men cried and Logan saw water, a bridge, and a very unstable looking raft.

Two of the small men leapt onto the boat and beckoned the rest of them onwards.

Logan watched as a third jumped over and began untying the rope, letting the raft drift a bit into the deep.

“Run!”

“Come on!”

“Frodo! Hurry!”

The voices yelled at Logan and the last person sprinting towards the water.

The raft slipped further away and with the rider baring down on them, hooves beating at their ankles, Logan and the man jumped.

Flying through the air, all he could think was, _there is no goddamn way this raft will hold my weight._

 

* * *

 

 

Strider watched as the four hobbits and one man entered The Prancing Pony. That was interesting. He’d only expected the halflings. The man was a surprise to him and he was not often surprised.

He was certainly dressed strangely. He wore unusual armor, black in color and made of a material Strider was unfamiliar with. Unkempt hair poked out from the sides of his head giving him the illusion of horns, or large furry ears. He was tall, for a man, and heavily muscled.

The man followed the hobbits quietly, glancing around the inn warily.

Perhaps he was their body guard.

Strider couldn’t blame them for seeking out hired muscle, although he was perturbed by the fact that he had not heard of them venturing elsewhere on their journey from the Shire to here.

Never the matter. As long as the young one still carried the Ring, he could still perform his duties in stride.

He was content to watch them from his seat by the window. He had a good view over most of the tavern. The man continued to glare suspiciously at those around him and the hobbits eagerly guzzled the ale in cups larger than their heads.

The man’s nostrils flared briefly and suddenly, he was making direct eye contact with Strider.

Strider watched the other man’s eyes narrow, his fists curling on the table before him. His sniffed the air again, cocking his head.

His behavior reminded Strider of the trained dogs he’d seen in the human kingdoms. They’d been used for hunting game and other bloody sports. This man shared the same mannerisms, the same gleam in his eyes.

He was suspicious of Strider, but he didn’t seem ready to confront him just yet.

Then the other hobbit, the round one, drew Frodo’s attention to Strider.

So, they all seem to be watching him. He didn’t mind. His hood disguised any recognizable features and they were all too shaken by the Nazgul to prepare for another clash so soon.

Frodo’s eyes left him and closed, seemingly of their own accord.

It was then that Strider felt the Ring. It stunned him – always did – the raw power permeating the air, sickening it.

Frodo was toying with it. Or perhaps, it was toying with him.

Then a clear voice cut through the din and clamor of the tavern. “Baggins…”

Frodo’s eyes shot open at the same time Strider’s left the hobbit.

One of his companions, the small, jovial looking one, was sitting amongst the regulars at the bar. He pointed in Frodo’s direction and Strider watched as the Ring-bearer leapt from his seat and hurled himself towards the other hobbit.

Then, time seemed to slow down. Strider saw Frodo grab at his friend, slip, and his hand shot into the air. A siren song began to play in Strider’s mind as he watched the Ring float in the air before falling to land perfectly on Frodo’s finger.

Then he disappeared.

Strider shot to his feet.

There was no mistaking it; the hobbit had vanished.

The strangely dressed man had also jumped up when Frodo disappeared. But his eyes were homed in on a single location before following an unseen target across the floor to land on the back wall. It was there that Frodo reappeared.

Strider had no time to waste wondering how the man knew where Frodo would rematerialize. He grabbed the hobbit’s arm and yanked him towards the staircase.

Strider shoved Frodo against the wall. “You draw far too much attention to yourself, Mr. Underhill.” He hissed before pushing him further up the stairs.

He reached an empty room and heaved them both inside.

“What do you want?” Frodo straightened and faced him.

“A little more caution from you,” Strider replied. “That is no trinket you carry.”

“I carry nothing.”

“Indeed.” Good boy. He was cautious. But too little too late. The wraiths had certainly heard the call by now and were riding towards them as they spoke. “I can avoid being seen if I wish. But to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift.”

Frodo shifted slightly, giving away his own lie. “Who are you?”

“Are you frightened?”

Frodo paused. “Yes.”

“Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you.”

Then, a shuffling came from the hallway. Strider drew his sword just in time for a flash of silver to fly past his face and a snarl ripped through the air.

Metal rang in his ears and only years of training kept the dagger from ripping into Strider’s face.

But it wasn’t a dagger, Strider was realizing. He followed the stretch of silver to where it disappeared into the knuckles of the man who had entered the inn with the hobbits. Three long, sharp blades extended from the man’s closed fist.

Strider had no time to process because as soon as he’d made the realization, the man was lashing out at him again, an inhuman growl rumbling out of his chest.

He could barely see the three other hobbits rushing towards Frodo, their makeshift weapons extended towards Strider as if he were the biggest threat in the room.

“Wait!” Frodo cried, gaze stuck on Strider.

The man paused, right fist hanging in midair.

Strider let out a shaky breath.

They came out of both of his hands, Strider fathomed with a dumbfounded fascination. Six pristine, unmarked blades came out of the man’s two hands. And they had nearly taken off his head.

His left hand was a hairsbreadth from Strider’s neck and he hadn’t even noticed it.

“Wait.” Frodo said again, breathlessly. He too was staring at the man’s unusual weapons. It seemed that the hobbits had not been aware of the stranger’s secret either.

The man heaved out a breath and backed away.

Strider watched with sick captivation as the metal slowly withdrew back into the man’s hands until all six pieces were safely sheathed away. Small cuts indicated where they once had been but in the blink of an eye, those too faded away as if by magic.

It probably was magic. But it was unlike any magic Strider had ever seen before.

“What do you know of the riders who’ve been following us?” Frodo stepped forward, ignoring the tension in the room.

Keeping an eye on the man, Strider answered, “The Nazgul, or the Ringwraiths. They were once men – kings – but they were deceived by the dark lord Sauron. He granted them nine rings of power until they all fell into darkness. Now they exist only to serve Him.”

“What’s this gotta do with us?” The man spoke up finally. His accent was strange, rough. It felt out of place, somehow, and Strider could not pin an origin to it.

“They feel the power of the Ring you carry. It calls out to them and they will hunt you until you are dead to obtain it.” Strider looked to Frodo as he replied. “You are in danger. The wizard cannot help you now.”

“Gandalf?” Strider felt more than saw the defenses lower on the hobbits as soon as the name was spoken.

“We must move. They will be upon us soon.” Strider glanced at the man. “If, of course, your companion does not object.” He remarked drily.

The stranger huffed out a laugh. “Bub, I don’t have the slightest fucking clue what’s going on. I just wanted to stick with them until I get my feet.” A protective gleam came into his eyes. “Don’t like leavin’ the helpless. It’s a flaw of mine.”

“You have courageous friends, Frodo Baggins. You will need them in the nights to come.” Strider began to head to the door. “Follow me. I have a safe place where we may stay until dawn. The Nazgul are powerful but they are not above being tricked.”

It would likely be a long watch until morning, but Strider felt a bit more confident knowing exactly where the One Ring would be while they rested. They had a long journey ahead of them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing this to procrastinate writing my other fic so don't expect regular updates from this. I rarely have my life together. 
> 
> I follow the dialogue a little bit in the beginning but because Logan's presence in the story has fucked all kinds of shit up, expect it to veer a little off in most parts. This will still be the same plot as LOTR though. It just has an angry looking mutant man running around in it now.


End file.
